The Seeker
by songsingsitself
Summary: A library, a bear who plays soccer, a desire for better, and an apple. The story of the girl who would spend all day in the library and the Bulgarian exchange student who won't leave her alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! Welcome to my story! This is just the introduction, more will come soon!**

Every turn of a page stepped on her loneliness more and more until she didn't even know it was there anymore, and every chapter silenced the hunger pangs.

Sitting on the edge of the smooth wooden seat, she opened up today's book, _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Volume 1._ As she continued her education, she grew more and more irritated with how the textbooks only scratched the surface of these complete train wrecks throughout history, and Hermione was determined to learn all that she could. A small part of her was hopeful with each lesson she learned from the world's past, that when she was done with high school and college and all that, she might be able to use her immense knowledge of former mistakes to learn, remember, and make the world a better place.

Mr. Ressendorf entered through the computer lab and was not surprised to see her, but asked anyway, "Shouldn't you be at lunch?"

"Not hungry," Hermione lied, turning the pages of the enormous volume until she reached the introduction. He pursed his lips.

Mr. Ressendorf was a smart man. As a smart man, he knew that the girl was lying. As an educator, he knew that he should try to pry more information out of her to figure out what is really long, and that he should encourage her to eat a healthy meal. As a man who had chosen the profession of surrounding himself with books instead of people, he was uncomfortable and unsure of how to even begin to form another question, so he retreated to his worn blue desk chair that made her flinch when it squawked under his weight. It's on his last legs, as he's informed the principal, but unfortunately the budget is so tight right now that they cannot be bothered to waste money on frivolities like new chairs.

From five feet away, he heard her stomach growling, and she immediately wrapped her arms around it, as if she thought it could be silenced. Mr. Ressendorf has no children, no love; only a cat. A stubborn one at that, who eats, sleeps, and moves on her own time. He eyed the peanut butter crackers he was saving for his mid afternoon snack, glanced at the girl hiding under a magnificent bush of brown hair, and sighed. It took him about five minutes not only to work up the courage, but also to form words in his head, repeat them to himself a few times, and try to work out any strangeness before they are released into the air.

"Don't get any crumbs in the books," he mumbles, setting down the pack of crackers in front of her. "You can stay here, you can read, you can bring a snack, as long as you are quiet and don't get crumbs in the books." _It's not as if anyone actually uses the library anymore,_ he reminded himself. _These poor books are gathering dust and the only ones who might pick them up are the troublemakers that get sent down her so they don't bother anyone else. And even then, if they're picked up, there's a good chance that they'll be chucked across the room._ He tried not to think too hard about why she wouldn't be eating in the lunchroom.

Hermione smiled at him, embarrassed, but grateful. "Thank you." The librarian left for another room, and Hermione scooted back, a foot away from the table, careful to follow his instructions. She wouldn't dare to leave a book in any condition less than pristine.


	2. Chapter 2

**As you probably have noticed, this story does not take place in Britain or the magical world. I am so excited to mold these characters into every day high school life. I would love any sort of feedback, as I would hate for this to be boring, two dimensional, etc. Thank you for reading, and I look forward to hearing what you think!**

Hermione had turned the back corner of the library behind to the large fake plant into an office/blanket fort. Mr. Ressendorf liked to pretend it didn't exist. He also liked to pretend he didn't notice her storing two pillows, a teddy bear, and a large afghan in a closet in one of the conference rooms, and he liked to pretend that the girl didn't spend a lot of time twirling pieces of hair around her pencil to make her hair curly for a few seconds.

The candle was the last straw, though.

"I wasn't going to light it," Hermione claimed, "I was just going to smell it every few minutes."

"Of course you were, and why would you do that?" Ressendorf scoffed, taking the candle and putting it on his desk for safekeeping. _If the girl was venturing beyond bringing things like snacks and stocking up on blankets, pillows, and candles, then where would he draw the line?_ He wondered. _Hopefully, she wouldn't try to sneak in a cat or something._

Hermione sighed impatiently at him, her head resting on the bookshelf behind her. "Haven't you _ever_ read _The Little Book of Hygge, Danish Secrets to Happy Living_? Candles are essential to _hygge_ and general coziness."

"I have no idea what you just said. No candles," Ressendorf replied, not even trying to expand his horizons to learn what _hygge_ could possibly mean. Muttering under her breath, the girl turned back to her book, he turned back to email, and there was no more acknowledgement of any human's presence. He did, however, smell the candle when he thought she couldn't see; spice of the forest was not his favorite scent, but it would do.

On Friday, there was a visitor.

At 12:01 pm, Hermione entered the library after a stressful morning, ducked into the conference room to grab the contents of her reading nook, and started to build in her corner. At 12:03 pm, she noticed the visitor, and ten seconds later, she hid herself behind the plant. The visitor looked like he could have broken something if he wanted to, and she was afraid he was one of those dumb boys that got themselves stuck in the library when they were in too much trouble to bother anyone in the office or in another classroom. He wasn't even _reading,_ he just kept tipping himself farther and farther backward in his chair.

At 12:07 pm, the bear of a boy thumped into the conference room, rustled things around a bit, and then stuck his head out. "Where blankets?" he asked politely.

"This isn't the school's, this is mine," Hermione explained, turning the page and feeling a little guilty.

"You have blanket in school? Why?" he asked curiously, taking a few steps over to the nearest bookshelf and leaning against it.

"I just...like to be cozy when I read." It was hard to shrink any deeper into her corner, and when he didn't say anything for a little while, she hoped that he would just stop and leave her to read, because she really couldn't read fast enough to discover what was to happen at the end of this scene. Her heart raced.

"What you are rrreading?" the bear questioned at 12:12 pm, and the more he spoke, the more Hermione hoped that he wasn't just a dumb boy, and that he was just an exceptionally nosy foreign exchange student. But that still didn't explain why he was in the library.

Hermione lifted up the book from behind her knees drawn to her chest so he could see the cover. "Anna Karenina. I'm almost done." She hoped that was enough of a hint.

Nodding, the bear dared to walk even closer and stood in front of her feet. Hermione dubiously looked up at him. "I am Viktor," he told her, giving her the smallest smile.

Deciding to humor him, the bookworm held out her hand for him to shake. "Hermione," she said, hoping that this would be the end of it, and yelped when the bear swiftly kissed her hand.

The bear's thick brow furrowed, becoming an umbrella over his dark eyes. "Hurrr...um. Say again, please?"

"Her-my-oh-nee." Never was there a more patient reply.

"Hurrrmione." The bear smiled proudly. "Hurrrmione." He practiced a couple more times.

"It's nice to meet you, Viktor." Hermione was starting to feel a little charmed by his accent, but knew that she had to save up her social energy for the afternoon. "Is it all right if I finish my book?"

"Yes, yes, read!" he encouraged, sliding down to sit near her against the wall.

Now that Hermione knew that he wasn't one of the dumb punks that got stuck in the library of all places, she wasn't as annoyed when he decided to sit near her, but she would have felt better if he had actually read the book he blindly picked up instead of taking little glances at her between pages. But then she wondered, how did she know that he was stealing looks at her if she wasn't doing the same? Was it just a game he was playing? The culture of Bulgaria was not ever touched on in any of the books she usually read, so she didn't know what the heck he was playing at.

During the last few pages of a story, she got herself so worked up about the mile run she needed to do during gym class that she was completely distracted. It's one thing to take the students around the circle of school property so they can complete the run themselves and in their own time, and she could hang back and walk when everyone was ahead of her, but when Ms. Hooch made them run around the gym, it just made everyone see how discouraged and weak she was getting after every lap. Her heart was filled with dread, and she tried hugging her stuffed bear tight to try to expel some of the anxiety out of her body, but it didn't work that time. She was so distraught that when the bell rang at 12:35, she left everything in her little corner and just rushed out of the room.

Viktor chuckled to himself when he picked up the pile of afghan and pillows and out fell the teddy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all for your follows and favorites! I hope to make each chapter a little longer than the last. You may notice little weird things with Viktor's accent, such as he can say the letter w, and replaces th with a d sound, which is not something normally represented in fan fiction with him in it, but I read a fascinating Tumblr post the other day written by a native Bulgarian speaker, which basically said that Rowling's writing of his accent was not accurate. So I am trying to practice some of those rules. Enjoy!**

"More test today, miss?" Viktor Krum asked as he entered his Psychology class.

"No," Ms. McGonnagall replied, and his heart sank. "Luckily, the PSAT is a one-day job, Mr. Krum. You may join us today." The old woman straightened some already impeccably piled papers on her desk. The woman had standards, and she made sure her students knew them, or else they were subject to her incessant nagging and disappointed looks anytime they said anything. Was it possible to forget a student's minor hiccup? Of course, but she never did, so that the student never did, either.

"Um..." Viktor stood and thought for a moment.

"Mr. Krum?" McGonnagall raised her eyebrows and watched him expectantly. "Please take your seat."

Viktor knew from the last week of being in her class that she did not make requests, but still answered, "I cannot," and several students looked up in alarm.

"I beg your pardon." McGonngall straightened up formidably, and though she was much smaller than him, Viktor quaked just a little bit.

"Miss...I cannot, because I...I have problem of stomach," he lied.

The woman snorted, her long scarlet skirt coming into view as she came out from behind her desk and began to write notes on the whiteboard. She was the only teacher in the school who had refused the document camera projector, and refused to print out fully written notes for the students or that of the fill-in-the-blank nature. She was from the old days and knew that the students would recall more subject matter if it was written in their own hand. "Sit down, Mr. Krum." She turned her back on him, and expected him to heed her direction.

But Viktor Krum had a one track mind, and when he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it, even if there was a language barrier and a very frightening teacher in his way. "No, no! Is true!" Viktor wracked his brain, trying to translate his words from his mother tongue into English. "I...I..."

"Viktor! Do you need Google Translate? It will help you find your words!" The red-haired girl in the front row who always giggled when he spoke volunteered her phone. It had no Bulgarian keyboard, he realized when he took the proffered phone, so he spoke into the app's microphone.

For the whole class to hear, the English translation rang out, "After lunch, I need poop." Several students tittered, and McGonnagall's eyes widened.

Flushed with embarrassment, Viktor bounced up and down hopefully on the balls of his feet. "Please, miss?" He tried to look as uncomfortable as he could, and it helped that there were twenty-four pairs of eyes on him and several people were whispering behind their hands. The girl who had offered her phone snatched it back and looked at him disgustedly.

"Just get out of my room, Mr. Krum, you have disrupted my class enough today!" McGonnagall snapped at him and turned back to the notes. Her tone hurt, as he was very sensitive to the way that people spoke to him, but he knew he couldn't let it bother him, it was his own fault.

"Dank you," Viktor replied quickly, giving her a nod and hurrying out of the classroom. Once in the hall, he glanced up at the clock, knowing that if he was to pull this off and not get anything worse from McGonnagall, he could not be gone longer than ten minutes. Luckily, the library was right down the hall.

As he neared the door, his heart sank. His mother had always taught him to be respectful to adults, and never to tell a lie, because he would surely be caught in it eventually. He had learned this lesson already, so why was he doing it again? For a girl who paid little attention to him, who he had only even seen once? The remorse alone made him take a few steps away from the library door, but the walrus-mustachioed librarian had already seen him.

It was too late now. He was already here, the lie was already told, and he very much wanted to see Hermione again. The brief time he had spent with her yesterday made him think of his friends back home, how much he missed them, and wished he had real friends here. The boys on the soccer team had their own little friend groups that they spent time with, and all the girls he had met just wanted to talk to him because of his accent and because they wanted to be the one who was seen with the foreign exchange student. Hermione had barely paid attention to him, which was better than being fawned over. He hoped maybe that they could become friends and do things he used to do with his old friends, like she could come watch his soccer games and they could have tapas parties. Or do whatever Americans do for fun, he was up for anything.

As he opened the library door, he knew this year would be good for him, even though it had started off difficult, and he hoped that it would be better to have her as a friend. Or, you know, more than that.

His mother always said he fell too easily. _She is pretty,_ he admitted, and then shook his head. _No. I just want a friend._

The librarian didn't even acknowledge Viktor's greeting, and he noticed that the heavy door shutting behind him made Hermione (or rather, her hair, as he couldn't really see the rest of her) jump back in her little nook, but she didn't look up from her book. He tiptoed over to the big fake plant, and sat down in front of her.

"Hi, Hurrrmione," he whispered after a few seconds. "What you read today?"

Hermione glanced up in mild surprise, her dark, slightly more tame hair allowing her face to come into view. "Hi Viktor." She licked her index finger and turned the page. "It's about explorers in Antarctica."

"What Antarctica?" he asked, trying out the new word on his tongue slowly.

"A very, very cold place." She lifted up the book from behind her knees to show him the cover with glaciers and a grey sky.

"People live in Antarctica?"

"Not really," Hermione said, setting her book on the floor next to her. Viktor worried he must have annoyed her, but her eyes shone with excitement. "It's not really possible to live there long-term, as it's so cold and there's not a lot of natural resources, so there are no native people, but scientists go to study the climate and icebergs and penguins, and I believe you can't fly there, you can only go in a boat, and the studies they have completed are amazing! What they've done is..."

Viktor was a little overwhelmed with the sudden slam of words that faced him, and he was trying to follow along as best he could, but there were words he was not sure of and the girl was talking impossibly fast, as if she wasn't going to have enough time to tell him everything, or as if she thought he might not want to listen after a while. And she really didn't have enough time to tell him everything, he thought nervously as he looked up at the clock and noticed half his time was already gone. But he couldn't interrupt her, not when she was telling him such interesting things, and when she looked so excited.

"Well, anyway, that's just the first chapter," she finished a few minutes later. Feeling a little dazed, Viktor nodded at her.

"You need write book."

Hermione's cheeks were tinted pink, and she looked away, smiling. "Maybe someday." She picked the book back up. "Thanks for listening. Sorry I carried on so long."

"Was my pleasure," Viktor assured her, standing up. He wasn't sure how to make his exit without seeming awkward, like her rant had inconvenienced him. "You here in library every day?" Hermione nodded, her smile for some reason fading. "Good, I come back and see you. You tell more stories. I go now."

"Where are you even supposed to be right now?" Hermione inquired suspiciously. "You're not in my lunch, are you?"

Viktor frowned, not sure if he wanted to stain her view of him by telling her the lie he had told McGonnagall, and would surely be telling her for several more days. "Goodbye, Hurrmione," he said over his shoulder as he rushed out of the room. Hermione glanced over at Mr. Ressendorf, hoping for some kind of explanation, and he pointedly ignored her. He had already offered the girl a place to escape. He was not going to offer her some love advice.


	4. Chapter 4

It's funny how when upsetting things happen, all you remember are the words that were said and a minor detail, like the clicking of a mechanical pencil that was happening in the background, or the narrowed eyes of the person you thought was your friend.

Hermione felt so angry that she could hardly read, and when her emotions threatened to consume her, she made lists. Today's was:

 **Things People Say Instead of Apologizing,** by Hermione Jean Granger

1\. Oh, you know how I am.

2\. Let it go!

3\. What's the big deal?

4\. If you didn't...then I wouldn't have...

5\. I only...because you...

The girl gritted her teeth as the last statement played in her head. It played and played, each time giving emphasis to a different word in the sentence.

If she wasn't curled up in the library, she would probably scream. All she wanted to do was expel his face, his voice, that sentence, that friendship, from her memory, so she could lose herself in _Beartown_ by Frederik Bakman. The knowledge that she had a free half hour in the middle of the day to just read this book was what got her through the first four hours of the morning.

She stopped breathing when the loud, heavy door to the library opened and she saw who trudged in. Squeezing further into her hiding spot, she thought _No no no no no no no no no no no._ Her head was pressed up against the wall, behind the plant, and her eyes drilled a hole into the ceiling, while she reasoned desperately _, if I can't see him, then he can't see me._

 _"If you can't see the camera, the camera can't see you!"_ Uncle Donald would say at family reunions _._ She nodded, and even though she was a remarkably logical girl, she assured herself of this. Even when she heard the footsteps of those moccasins that he wore (that were actually slippers, she didn't know how he wore them outside) approaching her.

"Hermione," Harry whispered. Hermione groaned when she realized her hair was too big for her to properly hide behind the plant. "What are you doing in here?"

"Reading," Hermione replied in a small voice, shifting ever so slightly away from him.

"Why haven't you been at lunch? Ron said that you guys got into some kind of fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Hermione tried to keep her voice down and glancing over at Mr. Ressendorf, who was trying to appear very invested in his game of Solitaire but actually heavily eavesdropping. He didn't know why Hermione was avoiding going to her lunch, but he wondered if it had anything to do with Harry Potter and his obnoxious ginger friend that always played games on the computers instead of doing projects.

 _"High score!"_ _Harry exclaimed, his hands flying into the air, as he beat the computer soccer game. Ron groaned._

 _"You always win everything," he whined._

"We _need_ to talk about this! Hermione, we need _you_!"

 _"Need me?"_ Hermione snorted. "For what?" Mr. Ressendorf wasn't sure, but it sounded like she already knew the answer to that question.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair, reminding the librarian of James Potter, who he had gone to school with. "Geometry is kicking our butts and we both just failed a Bio test-"

"Oh, so you need me to help you with your work?" Hermione broke in, angrily pushing herself up toward him. Any other person's voice would be rising with the heat of emotion, but Hermione would never dare to increase the volume of her voice while in the library. Anyway, the way she hissed made her sound even angrier. "You don't need because, I don't know, I'm your friend? You genuinely enjoy spending time with me? You care about me? It's _my_ fault that you failed that test, as Ron so kindly told me?"

"Hermione, of course we care about you!" Uh oh. Not only did Harry interrupt her, but he began to raise his voice at her. The librarian tutted and shook his head.

"Well, that's news to me! You guys are all busy with your football parties and getting drunk on the weekends and acting like IDIOTS and you expect ME to pick up your slack?" Hermione took a deep breath, threading her fingers through her hair, trying to calm down. "I'm not your mom. I'm not your tutor. I thought I was your friend. If you really want my help, you're gonna have to PAY me because I am SICK of you guys only wanting to hang out with me when you NEED something from me!"

Mr. Ressendorf was so disgusted with how Harry and Ron had been treating Hermione that he decided he needed to end this. "Mr. Potter, I believe you have somewhere you need to be," he hinted, trying not to act like he cared too much. Harry opened his mouth in indignation, but thought the better of it and stomped out of the room. "Some friend you are!" Harry yelled before he opened the door, and the librarian jumped when an apple soared through the air, hitting Harry in the back. "ARGH!" He slammed the door behind him. Mr. Ressendorf picked up the apple, tossed it in the trash can, and turned back to his game, but started when he heard a sniffle.

 _Dang it,_ thought the man who had only really about his cat. He pulled himself up out of his old blue chair, grabbed the purple box of tissues, and decided he probably needed to say something comforting. "Coming from one nerd to another," he spoke gently to the girl hiding behind her mane of light brown hair, "you're going to want some friends who like you for you, and not what you can do for them."

Hermione nodded tearfully and mopped her face off. "But how do you find those?"

Mr. Ressendorf shrugged. "I know it sounds cliche, but you just need to be yourself." He heard a slight push on the door entering the library as Hermione blew her nose, and he saw the Bulgarian foreign exchange student peeking through the window. A small shake of the head told the boy what he needed to know, and he didn't enter the room. But then Mr. Ressendorf thought about how the girl may have already found herself a friend who liked her for her, whether she realized it or not.

"Get up, now. I need someone to read the new John Green book for me and tell me what level of heartbreak to expect, so I can prepare my sister." Hermione chuckled and followed him to the desk, not noticing the foreign exchange student still watching from the door concernedly. Mr. Ressendorf sighed, and while Hermione read the back of the book, invited the boy in with a wave of his hand.

An avid reader the boy was not, but today he had been wondering if checking out and reading his own books would impress Hermione, or make her feel more comfortable. "You have soccer books?" Viktor asked Mr. Ressendorf. Hermione jumped when she heard another voice as she was already sucked into the story and not heard him come in.

"Hi Viktor," she greeted warmly, then promptly buried her face in the book when she realized how frightful her post-crying face must look. Her cheeks and eyes always stayed red for the rest of the day, and her brown, bloodshot eyes looked terrible.

"Hi Hurrmione," Viktor began, "Are you..." Mr. Ressendorf looked warningly at him, attempting with his eyes to say that this was not the time to ask "Are you okay", not when she had just managed to calm herself down. "...how. How are you. Sorry, I am learning English. Are you how. How are you. Oops." He gave a tiny grin, and the librarian thought him lucky that he was so charming, awkward, and foreign, so he could get away with that strange sentence.

Smacking a hand to his face, Mr. Ressendorf walked beckoned the boy with him to the soccer books. "I'm fine, thanks. How are you?"

"I am good. I am happy to see you," the boy replied boldly. Hermione looked a little taken aback, but Mr. Ressendorf met her eyes and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. The girl was smart, she had to pick up on something, and she had to respond if she wanted herself a friend.

"It's nice to see you again, too," she replied sweetly, and went back to her corner. Viktor's dark eyes followed her, and his long legs began to do the same.

"Hey. Soccer books," Mr. Ressendorf reminded him, and Viktor wheeled around.

"Yes. Sorry."

"I don't know what kind of books you're looking for, but we have a book called _How Soccer Saves the World,_ this book on the history of soccer tactics, a biography on Lionel Messi, and another one about Pele."

"Um...all the books," Viktor responded distractedly, his eyes wandering back to Hermione, who was in her nest with her back against the plant, her hair tangled in it, and surely she would be left with leaves in her hair.

Now, Mr. Ressendorf wanted this thing to work out. Hermione deserved it, Viktor seemed like a nice if not a little bit of a lanky Golden Retriever kind of kid, but the boy couldn't just stare at her. "Take this one, I think she'll be the most impressed with it," he muttered, giving him the book _How Soccer Saves the World._ "Bonus points if you mention an interesting fact or story. She's not sporty, but she loves to learn."

Viktor grinned at him. "Dank you, sir."

"And don't forget to actually read the book, don't just pretend," Mr. Ressendorf pointed out to him, which was met with a quick nod. Viktor slowly approached Hermione (sitting a little closer to her today! The boy was not wasting time) and Mr. Ressendorf noticed them, on two separate occasions, glance up at each other, smile, and return to their books.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. Caring about people was exhausting. Thank goodness Tina, his cat, was so low maintenance.

As the minutes ticked by, the librarian remembered that Viktor was not in Hermione's lunch, recalling the week before when he had been sent to the library by McGonnagall during a test. The boy was skipping out on class to spend time with her, and the most intimidating teacher in the school's class at that. It was too late in the semester to switch into most classes, but perhaps Minerva could be persuaded to allow him to independently study in the library.

Oh, no. Now he was caught between being his library job and this side gig matchmaking. And he was fooling himself into thinking that Minerva McGonagall, human tornado, would be persuaded into allowing one of her students skip her class to learn on his own for no actual reason. Mr. Ressendorf groaned at himself, and tried to focus on Solitaire and maybe think of a different option.

The bell rang, startling all three inhabitants of the room. "Bye Hurrrmione!" Viktor called quickly, knowing that she left so fast that he might not get a chance.

"Bye Viktor!" She replied, waving.

Viktor picked up her forgotten pillows, afghan, and teddy bear, and put them in the conference room closet. He smiled gratefully at Mr. Ressendorf, who a minute earlier had been struck with an amazing idea after looking at the school's lunch schedule. The other classes that ended before Hermione's lunch were complicated things like Trig, AP Lit, and Physical Science...all except for one, that he was sure Viktor would be able to transfer into. "Hey, Viktor," he asked innocently, "how do you feel about singing?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Sir, I do not know how to sing," Viktor explained, hurrying to keep up with Mr. Ressendorf. "My mother say my voice is like donkey who is dying. My voice is not good. My feet is good. I run very fast. Maybe there is gym class?"

Mr. Ressendorf rounded the corner into the east hallway, his shiny black shoes squeaking the floor, and he briefly noticed that Viktor had been remembering to use "is" in his sentences more often. "That's okay. They'll take anybody who wants to sing." For the second time, he wondered why he was so compelled to do this. He never would have gone to all this trouble for someone else before, even for Tina.

"Hurrrmione likes boys who sing?"

"I don't know what she likes, all I know is that if Mr. Flitwick is willing to take you into his class so late in the semester, then you two will be in the same lunch."

"Really?" Viktor asked, a giddy smile arriving on his face.

Mr. Ressendorf fought an eye roll. "Yep. Okay, here we are. Don't be nervous, you'll do fine." They pushed the heavy door that led into the choir room, and noticed, as usual, that class hadn't started on time. The teacher was very intently reading something on his computer inside his connected office while in the open, airy classroom about forty young women were flocked around one who had smuggled in a bubble machine. The elderly accompanist, Ms. Cook, gently snoozed at the piano bench.

Muttering about wasted time, Mr. Ressendorf motioned for Viktor to follow him into the office. Most of the girls were too busy trying to catch the bubbles to notice the visitors.

"Filius?"

Filius Flitwick, small in stature but larger than life in passion for music and the arts, jumped at his name. "David! What are you doing down here?"

Once distracted from his computer, he seemed to be finally aware of the mayhem that was happening in his classroom, and called in his high, wispy voice, "Ladies! Please take a seat! Ginny, we've had this conversation before, put the bubble machine away!" The tall, curvy redhead smiled sweetly and put it under her chair, and Viktor noticed she hadn't bothered to turn it off, so bubbles were still floating around her crossed legs. The rest of the girls continued to giggle and talk, but took their seats in one of the three long rows that sprawled across the width of the classroom.

"This is Viktor. He would like to join the choir program."

Mr. Flitwick was so excited he didn't bother with the inspirational speech he usually gave to a new recruit. "How wonderful! You wouldn't believe how desperately in need of men we are!"

"Aren't you always?" Mr. Ressendorf muttered, but Mr. Flitwick didn't seem to hear him. He hurried out of his office to the piano and banged irritatingly on two keys, jarring Ms. Cook awake.

"Viktor, I'm going to play some scales. I want you to sing along with them."

When Mr. Ressendorf noticed Viktor's eyes had grown as big as the large bubbles the machine was still spewing, he clapped him on the back in what he hoped was encouraging.

Viktor took a deep breath and sang very quietly along with the scales. His voice dropped even softer when the girls, now distracted by the sound of the piano and the brawny foreign exchange student, turned away from their conversations to listen.

Mr. Ressendorf winced. The boy's mother had not been exaggerating about him sounding like a dying donkey. The poor boy knew it, and was singing so quietly he could hardly be heard.

"A little louder, Viktor, please," Mr. Flitwick requested, beginning to play lower scales. The choir teacher hummed to himself as Viktor sang lower and lower.

The boy's voice was strange, to say the least. He seemed to have the high notes in his range, but when he sang them, he had no control over his voice; he constantly went off pitch, there was no foundation or strength to it, and it was physically painful for the ears to endure. Mr. Flitwick bit his lip and reminded himself he needed to check again sometime exactly where on the scale, but at some point the boy's voice had changed into a warm tone, that though it was not advanced or beautiful, it sounded much more like singing. His voice was a little bit growly (which fit him well-Mr. Flitwick had never seen anyone look less like a human and more like a bear) but it would do, especially because he had been having trouble finding good basses. The choir director loved a good project, and he could see one in Viktor. The girls' mild interest turned into infatuation as they whispered behind their hands. "Everybody loves a bass," Mr. Flitwick muttered just as Viktor's voice bottomed out.

"All right, Viktor, I think you will do quite nicely. Go pay a visit to the guidance office and tell them you need to switch your schedule." Mr. Flitwick shook his hand. "Hopefully I'll see you by the end of the week! Thanks for the new recruit, David!"

"Yeah, yeah," Mr. Ressendorf mumbled. Viktor hesitantly waved to the forty girls who were yelling their goodbyes to him.

Three days later, on Friday the 19th of October, Mr. Ressendorf entered the library after a bathroom break to see Viktor humming to himself and buzzing around the room like a bee. He sat back and watched him for a while.

The burly young soccer player was not wasting anytime. After he had carefully constructed Hermione's blanket fort just the way she liked it and tenderly resting her teddy bear against her petal pink pillow, he made himself one right across from it, using throw blankets and pillows he had brought from his host home. He had also brought granola bars, two bananas, a bag of almonds, and two bottles of sweet tea, which he had grown fond of. Mr. Ressendorf watched with amusement as Viktor glanced at the clock, muttering something to himself, and then plopped himself down. The boy was obviously trying to appear as if he were casually reading his book, but his eyes were not moving across the page, and the boy was constantly pushing his shaggy, strangely cut mop out of his eyes.

Mr. Ressendorf doubted Hermione had ever been wooed before, and he could see that this was to be a very interesting lunch period.

The girl in question nearly ran into a table as she entered the room, her nose buried in _The Book Thief_ by Markus Zusak. "Hello, Hurrrmione!" Viktor greeted warmly, surrounded by the merry assortment. The girl stopped completely and stared at him, so many questions on her lips that she couldn't decide which to verbalize first.

"Now, I am in singing class," Viktor explained. "We have same lunch!"

The girl still didn't say a word when he said, "Come sit, please. I bring lunch."

"Be careful with the food," Mr. Ressendorf ordered, trying to sound like this was all very dull, but secretly excited about how it was going to play out.

He actually ended up being rather bored. What had he expected to happen?

Viktor and Hermione sat in companionable silence for almost the entire lunch, reading their books and eating their snacks. Viktor stood up and threw Hermione's trash away when she was done, and went back to his spot, sneakily moving just a little bit closer to her. Only the last couple of minutes held more than silence as Viktor peeked at the cover of Hermione's book, which was propped on top of her knees.

"What is this word on front of the book?"

"That word is thief. A thief is someone who takes things that don't belong to them."

Viktor frowned. "Why is thief stealing books?"

Hermione sighed. "That is a wonderful question, and I wish I had a short answer for it. You really should read the book once your English improves a little more."

"Book is good?"

"Yes, one of my favorites!"

Mr. Ressendorf noticed Viktor's eyes narrow under his full brows, nearly disappearing. "Will you help me learn English?" he asked after some contemplation.

Hermione's quick answer, "If you'd like," surprised Mr. Ressendorf. He thought she would have taken more time in deciding, or turned the boy down because of a busy schedule. "I can recommend you some books that will help you!"

Viktor winced a little bit. "Is...hard for me to read. I need practice. But even in Bulgarian...I do not read."

Hermione frowned. Surely she must have been wondering why the boy had been spending so much time in the library, reading so many books, if he did not like to, and now she was offering to help him with something he needed and turning it down. "You know, I could read to you, if you'd like. I don't mind reading out loud."

Viktor smiled. "Please. I want very much. I like to listen."

Hermione flipped all the way back to the beginning of The Book Thief. "If there is a word you don't know, I want you to interrupt me by saying, 'Beep,'" she told him, giggling a little bit. Viktor sunk even lower in his fort, snuggling contentedly.

 _"I am in all truthfulness-"_

"Beep."

 _"Attempting-"_

"Beep."

 _"To be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered-"_

"Beeeep." Viktor smirked at her, and Hermione sighed exasperatedly, but there was still a twinkle in her eye.

"Maybe we'll start with a book that's a little bit easier." The bell rang, startling the pair. "I'll look for one over the weekend, okay? I'll see you later!"

Viktor watched her leave with a hopeful look in his eye. "Bye," he said, almost too late. He glanced over at Mr. Ressendorf, who, without bothering to look up (because of course, he could not seem too invested in this situation), raised his fist in the air in victory. Viktor laughed, sighed and started picking up his blanket fort things.


End file.
